Falling Snow
by yoakeyiguri
Summary: Matthew has woken up with no memory of who he is, so he must rely on his so called "brother" Alfred to help him while they are trapped in Matthew's own house. But Matthew can tell his brother is hiding a dangerous secret, and as his trust begins to waver, he realizes that it could mean the life or death of both of them.
1. Prologue

**Hello! My name is yoakeyiguri, and this is the first time I've written a Hetalia fanfiction. If you are somehow a moron and failed to read the title, this fic is Falling Snow. It's a CanAme – yes, this pairing is "geographically correct". Meaning, Canada tops. If you don't like CanAme, Hetalia or yaoi, this is not the place to be. For everyone who likes these things, please enjoy! This is for my friend Kouya-kun. I am sorry for being a fail at life :(**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia **

Pale lights danced across the cold white marble and in the navy-colored night sky. It was far too beautiful a show to go unnoticed, and yet it was invisible to the shivering teen leaning against the rail of the balcony. After all, such things tend to be secondary when one is in mortal danger.

The teen in question pushed light blonde hair away from his eyes, taking deep calming breaths. This was far more terrifying than any horror movie, he decided, because a monster is something physical to fight. How can you fight the cold? With a fire. Except there was absolutely nothing to light a fire with. How was one supposed to light a fire when one is stuck on a marble balcony, attached to a house that has the door locked, and overlooking a field of snow? The teen's clothes were useless – he was wearing a thin hoodie and sweatpants, and his shoes were nothing but indoor-wear slippers.

Tears began to run down the teen's cheeks, freezing against his skin. In a fit of desperation, he slammed his fist against the glass door separating him from the house. To his amazement, a light flickered on in one of the rooms next to him. Relief flooded through the teen, and he sank to the floor. Perhaps he had gone to a party and gotten drunk, somehow managing to lock himself outside and fainting from the alcohol intake, awaking to find that he couldn't remember a thing. Yes. That was it. That _had _to be it.

"Hello?" The teen called weakly, his voice barely above a whisper. Clearing his throat in annoyance, he wondered why he was so quiet. "Hello! I-is anyone in there? I need help, eh!"

Another light flickered on. This was for the hallway beyond the glass door, and for the first time, the teen could see clearly inside. The carpet was a deep, rich, red and the walls and ceiling a creamy yellow. The entire place had the look of a red velvet cake. A chandelier hung from the top, throwing gold light onto the scene. Someone was walking down the hallway. The teen smiled weakly and waved. They did not wave back.

After what seemed like an eternity, the figure reached the end of the hallway and began to unlock the door. The teen's heart fluttered at the sight of him. The figure was a tall, young man, perhaps a year or two older than himself. He had straw-colored hair and eyes like bits of the sky. He was very muscular, but the amnesia victim noticed that he was also a bit on the chubby side.

"Hello…" the teen started as the figure unlocked the door and pushed it open, "Err… I k-kind of woke up out here… and… and I don't remember anything. I'm going to freeze to death out here…"

The figure placed a finger against the teen's lips, startling him into silence. "Please, Mattie, none of your games now. It's been a hard night for both of us."

The teen was immediately filled with questions. After a short pause, he prudently asked "So… my name is Mattie? Matthew?"

The figure looked at him tiredly. "Alright, I'll play your game, but you're coming inside first. You look half frozen to death." The figure wrapped an arm around the teen's shoulders and led him into the warmth. After closing the glass pane behind him, the figure turned to the teen. "Okay, what's the game this time? A guessing game?"

"No," the teen said hurriedly, "I'm not playing a game, I promise. Please, I'm serious. I can't remember anything. Do you know what happened…?"

The figure looked shocked. Grasping the teen's shoulders, he asked "You can't remember anything? Nothing at all?" The teen shook his head. "Holy… are you… No, you're not. Holy shit, Mattie."

The teen repeated his question from before. "Is my name Matthew?"

"Yes. Yes, you're Matthew. Matthew Williams. My name is Alfred Jones. I'm your brother."

"Matthew… Alfred…" the teen murmured, trying out the names. Adrenaline left him as he realized he was no longer in a life-or-death situation, and the teen – Matthew – felt his eyes growing heavy. He slumped into his brother's arms, drained. "You… you aren't leaving, right? I don't know anything…"

"Of course I'm not leaving," Alfred said, "what kind of hero would leave his brother all alone?" Matthew felt his brother's chest puff out a little, and, looking up, he saw Alfred smiling for the first time. It was a pleasant sight, and Matthew wondered if Alfred smiled often. "We should go to bed," Alfred continued, "It'll be easier to explain everything once we're rested." Matthew nodded. There was nothing else to say.

**Short prologue is short. I promise that the next chapters will be much longer. **

**This passage is kind of confusing, even for me. Basically, "the teen" = Matthew, and "the figure" = Alfred. The next chapter is kind of the same, so if you're confused as to who's who, just scroll down to the bottom and it'll be there. Writing from the viewpoint of a person who has amnesia is hard… **


	2. Chapter 1

**I updated! Good for me.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Hetalia. If I did…**

**Warnings: Swearing, implied pedophilia**

_-_- ϔ -_-_

"_Bonjour, Matthieu," said the blonde man, his back to the little boy, "What would you like for breakfast?" Before Matthew could reply, his brother barreled into the room, screaming "Omelette! Omelette!" at the top of his tiny lungs. _

_The blonde man turned, revealing a handsome face with blue eyes and a stubble beard. Scooping up Alfred, he chuckled. "Chéri, I know that you are desperate to get away from that ghastly 'food' that mon Angleterre makes, but I asked your little brother first."_

England, _thought Matthew somewhere in the part of his brain that wasn't dreaming, _he said "My England." What does that mean?

"_C-could you make pancakes? I love pancakes." Matthew stuttered nervously, tugging on his white nightgown._

"_Of course, Matthieu," cooed the blonde man, scooping up Matthew as well and holding both of the twins close to his chest. He smelled like roses, wine, fine bread and another scent that Matthew couldn't quite identify. It was heavy and musky, and Matthew decided he didn't like it as much as the other smells._

"_Frog!" called a new voice, this one laced with a rough British accent, "What the bloody hell are you doing to Alfred and… err… his brother?" _

_Matthew could imagine the coy smile spreading across the blonde man's face as he squeezed the twins a little tighter. "Mon amour, I am holding them like any good papa! They love it~"_

"_My arse they love it!" Matthew and Alfred were yanked from the blonde man's arms and into the chest of someone else. After a squirming around a bit, Matthew could look up at his new captor. For a moment, Matthew could have sworn that two bushy caterpillars were crawling over the skin right above his captor's emerald-green eyes, but he quickly decided that he was just being over- imaginative. _

"_Arthur, aren't you overreacting? I was just hugging them!"_

"_You'd be doing more than that pretty soon, you pervert!"_

"_You doubt I tell the truth?"_

"_And with a bloody good reason, too!" Arthur sighed, placing Matthew and Alfred on the floor. "I'm sorry you had to hear that, lads. It must be hard to hear your big brother fight." The blonde man frowned._

"_Angleterre, I thought we had agreed that I'm the papa and you're the ma-"_

_He was cut off by a punch to the stomach._

"_We should go," whispered Alfred, taking Matthew's hand and harshly tugging him in the direction of the living room door. Matthew took one last look at his big brothers before letting himself be dragged out._

"Matthew!" called a voice from his bedside, "Matthew, wake up. It's time for breakfast."

Matthew rolled over, refusing to open his eyes. For a moment, he was drifting through the limbo between dreams and waking life. Then he remembered – he couldn't remember. Matthew opened his eyes, sitting up. Alfred was on the bed, next to him. Matthew noticed something new – a strand of his brother's hair was sticking straight up, and he was also wearing glasses. Matthew wondered what he should ask about first: the hair, the glasses, breakfast or the people in his dream.

"You wear glasses?" Matthew asked. Alfred nodded.

"So do you, bro." Alfred plucked something off the bedside table and handed it to his brother. The glasses were nearly identical to Alfred's, but they were a little rounder and thicker. Come to think of it, Matthew did remember something about wearing glasses when he was outside.

"I took them off when you fell asleep," explained Alfred, plucking them out of his brother's hands and placing them on Matthews face.

"You seem like a very kind person, eh." Matthew stated offhandedly, not thinking. Alfred coughed in surprise, his sky blue eyes widening at the bold statement.

"E-eh, no, not really. Just wanna make a good first impression, y'know? It's my second chance, and I don't want to mess up this time too."

Matthew bit his lip. "Did… we argue a lot?"

Alfred looked like he wanted to run out of the room. After a moment, he swallowed and nodded slowly. "Yeah… we didn't see eye-to-eye on most things. It didn't help that people kept confusing you for me, and sometimes outright ignored you. I've… always been louder, and since we're twins, well… they just thought you were a less interesting version of me. It was really horrible…"

Matthew thought back to his dream. It seemed like the British man – Arthur – had trouble remembering his name. A flash of red-hot anger flared through him. Matthew gasped, recoiling at the intense feeling. For a moment, he felt like he was burning up. His vision didn't go red but black as Matthew struggled against the tide that was pushing him down somewhere, somewhere he didn't want to go.

"You okay, Mattie? Mattie?" A voice – Alfred's. Matthew held onto that one string of light among the mirth that had filled him. He blinked. Once. Twice.

"Mattie?"

Matthew stuttered out a response as he tumbled back into the real world. "Y-yes?"

"You okay, Mattie? You kinda glazed over. Didn't seem like you even heard me." Alfred looked really worried, and placed a hand on Matthew's shoulder. Matthew's brain scrambled for options. He really didn't know what had just happened or why, but if he told Alfred the truth, he would scare him.

"I had a flashback, I think," Matthew said slowly. Alfred's eyes brightened, and a smile spread across his face.

"Really? What was it?"

Matthew glanced away. He knew he should tell his brother, but a coil of suspicion was rising in his gut. If Matthew could lie, so could Alfred. They might not be related at all. Hell, everything Alfred said could be one big, fat deception.

_No, _Matthew thought, _remember your dream? That was obviously Alfred. He isn't lying about that, at least. _

"Um, well, there were these two people, and they were fighting…" Matthew trailed off, not sure how this would sound. How could he explain that his first memory was not a happy one? In the movies, usually the amnesia victim could only remember a fragment of something happy that happened in their life, and they went pursuing that until they found their lover or something like that. In his flashback, Matthew honestly wasn't sure that his childhood had been a happy one.

Sensing his hesitation, Alfred rolled off the bed, his smile faltering slightly. "Hey, maybe we can discuss this over breakfast, yeah? I always feel better after eating your pancakes."

Oh yeah. Matthew apparently liked pancakes, though he really couldn't remember that all too well. He wondered if he could still make them. At the thought, Matthew smiled a bit and scooted off until he stood next to Alfred. It was just then that he noticed that he was uncomfortable close. His nose was almost pressing into his brother's cheek. Blushing, Matthew stepped away. Alfred gave him a weird look, but smiled nevertheless. "C'mon bro, let's go."

_-_- ϔ -_-_

As it turned out, Alfred had to make the pancakes, because Matthew hadn't the faintest idea how to do it. However, throughout the entire process, he was giving Alfred advice, and when his brother was finally done, Matthew could tell he was more than a little irritated.

"Here you go," he said, dumping a few large pancakes onto Matthew's plate unceremoniously. Matthew winced, not meeting his brother's eyes. Alfred picked up a bottle of maple syrup and practically drenched the food in the all-Canadian dressing. Matthew eyed it nervously. Was this normal? Picking up the fork, he poked the pancakes dubiously before cutting off a piece that wasn't completely soaked and eating it.

"So…" Matthew started awkwardly, not knowing what to say. "Uh… about my flashback…"

"Actually, I need to tell you something really important," Alfred said, giving himself the rest of breakfast and shoveling it down, "About right now, not your past. Um… we're in a vacation home of yours, on this island in the middle of Ta… Taki… Taki-something-or-other lake. It's in Canada. You invited me over here, and this… cold snap blew in. The lake's completely frozen over, and we don't have any phones here. We've been here for over a month. It was supposed to be this secret retreat or whatever, so no one really knows we're here…"

Matthew was stunned. They were trapped on a freezing island? It sounded like something straight out of Hollywood. He opened his mouth, and then closed it again. Suddenly, getting his memory back didn't seem that important.

"How… how have we survived?"

"There's wildlife on the island, and I brought my gun with me. Though we've been really careful with the bullets, since there's only so many… plus, you brought a lot of food, 'cause I generally eat a lot…"Alfred looked down at his plate. He has eaten two pancakes, and there was only one left on his plate. "Yeah, this is a pretty small breakfast for me."

Matthew leaned back, rubbing his eyes. Was it possible that the stress of being trapped made him lose his memory? Though it seemed likely, something didn't add up. What was that anger that he had felt? Why hadn't he told anyone that he was going on a vacation? Didn't he have a job? And why was Alfred looking so nervous?

"We'll be okay," Alfred said eventually, "I'll protect you from any harm, I promise." Matthew's brother stood, walking over and patting Matthew on the shoulder. Matthew looked up, and then buried his face in his brother's chest. "C'mon bro!" Alfred shouted a little too enthusiastically, picking Matthew up with a slight grunt. "So what did you remember?"

Matthew took a deep breath. "It… it must've been a long time ago. I was a young child, and so were you. And… there were two other people there. One of them was named Arthur, but the other didn't have a name. They were arguing over something… something stupid. Arthur called himself out big brother, and I guess he also meant the other man."

"Ah," Alfred said, still holding Matthew, "That would be Arthur and Francis. I guess you could call them our big brothers, but they were more like parents. They took care of us, and even though they fought a bunch, they really did love each other."

"Are they dead?" Matthew asked bluntly.

"What? No! What the hell made you think that?!" Alfred set his brother down, stepping away. Matthew felt another surge of anger, but he managed to repress it this time.

"Well, you kept referring to them in the past tense. I thought you might mean that they were dead."

"No, no. I just was tryin' to say it in a way that was like, a memory."

Matthew closed his eyes. Did that mean that they were adopted? Was it possible that Alfred wasn't really related to him? Something new filled Matthew's heart. It was warm, but it also sickened him. It was like his heart was greedy. Nothing was really making any sense anymore. "I'm going to take a shower." He announced, turning away.

"Do you need help finding the bathroom?" Alfred asked, walking after his brother.

"No! I mean, I can find it on my own, eh." Matthew really needed to spend some time away from his brother. In the short time that he remembers, Matthew was almost always in the company of his brother. He really needed some time to sort everything out. It was like pieces of the puzzle were coming together, but in the wrong places and much too fast. Matthew could feel his brother's worried gaze all the way up the stairs.

_-_- ϔ -_-_

**Yay for the second chapter!**

**The blonde man = France**

**The lake Alfred is trying to talk about is Takijuq Lake, which is this little-known lake in Nunavut Territory, Canada. There are a bunch of unnamed (as far as I know) islands in Takijuq lake. The reason I chose this lake is because it's not really close to anything and is forested enough that it could pass off as a vacation home site. You should look it up on Google Maps.**

**To my reviewers:**

**Kouya-kun: Congrats on stealing the comment virginity! XD Anyways, I hope you continue to enjoy your birthday gift (even though it was reaaaaally late)**

**Teh Llamainator: I dub thee a Prussia point for using the word "awesome" so much :) Thank you for leaving a review.**

**Kira92: I'm glad you like my writing style! I really hope you keep reading and keep enjoying~**

**Anyone else who wants to leave a review, please do so! Also, the more reviews I get, the faster the next chapter comes. Please don't be shy about constructive criticism, just no hating. Till next time!**


	3. Chapter 2

**Happy Holidays! I'm sorry for the super late update, but I was really busy due to finals and personal stuff, so this is very late. I'm also sorry for all the OOC-ness, but Matthew is still trying to figure out who he is, and Alfred is trying to hide a secret so he's super nervous and stuff.**

**As you may have figured out from the last chapter, this is **_**not **_**an AU. The only reason Alfred hasn't told Matthew yet is because he's convinced that Matthew will think he's crazy.**

**Disclaimer: Dun own Hetalia.**

**Warnings: Swearing**

_-_- ϔ -_-_

Hot water cascaded down Matthew's body as he tentatively fumbled through the shampoos, conditioners, and soaps that were in the metal basket attached to the shower head, trying to find some clue as to which was his own. Popping the cap of one, he sniffed, and then grimaced, looking at the cover. Bacon-flavored. He shook his head. It must be his brother's – there was no way he would ever coat his hair in this stuff. So he grabbed the other bottle of shampoo and began to scrub it into his hair.

Matthew knew that thinking about the shampoo was just a distraction. He sighed, leaning slightly against the side of the bathroom wall, but not too much, in case he slipped and broke something. Alfred's words started coming back to him: _We didn't see eye-to-eye on most things… _

Matthew and his brother had fought a lot – that much was obvious. People also had trouble remembering that Matthew existed, and they mistook him for his brother. Was it possible that the stress of all of this was pushed over by being trapped on an unknown island? Perhaps, but something was far too convenient. Even if Matthew had brought extra food for his brother, it still didn't seem right that they had had enough for an entire month without having to worry about frivolities, such as pancakes. An idea began to form in Matthew's mind. Was it possible that – no. It wasn't. That was crazy. Pushing the dark thought away, Matthew tried concentrating on something else.

There was a knock at the door, making Matthew drop the maple-scented conditioner that he had just picked up. "Alfred? Is that you?"

"Yeah, it's me. I just wanted to check up on you, to see that you were okay."

_Check up on me? I'm taking a shower for maple's sake. It's been less than ten minutes and he's already worried. Am I a klutz? Is he always like this? _"Yeah, I'm fine. Don't worry about me. I'll be done real soon here." There was a short pause, and Matthew bent over to pick up the plastic bottle and popped open the cap.

"Okay. Just… just be careful, okay?"

There were footsteps as Alfred walked away. Matthew stood there, feeling strangely warm yet ill. _He cares about me. He loves me. He loves me. He loves me. _A bubble of laughter burst out of Matthew's mouth, and as he giggled, he couldn't help but notice how hysterical he sounded.

_-_- ϔ -_-_

Alfred was sitting on the bed staring at a blank space on the wall when Matthew came in, wearing nothing but a small white towel.

"Maple!" Matthew shrieked, grabbing the nearest thing to him (which happened to be his glasses), and threw them at his spluttering brother. "What are you doing in here? I need to get dressed!" For some reason, the thought of Alfred in the same room as he changed was making Matthew squirm.

"Sorry! Jesus fuck Mattie, don't be so sensitive. We're brothers, yeah?"

There was an awkward silence as Matthew waited for his brother to realize his mistake. When Alfred didn't get the hint, Matthew sighed and turned away. "Hey, do you know where my clothes are? I wouldn't want to accidentally take any of your things."

"Oh, yeah, sure thing. Your clothes are in that closet right over there." Alfred pointed to a worn-down brown door. "Anything that's too big on you is probably mine. You've always been a lot thinner than I have." A fleeting look of disappointment flitted across Alfred's face, making Matthew laugh. Alfred looked like a high school football jock. Why on earth would he be jealous of the Canadian?

_Canadian?_

"Hey, don't laugh at me!" Alfred shrieks indignantly, just managing to make Matthew laugh harder. For a moment, Matthew reveled in the golden moment – he forgot about all of his worries, all of the responsibilities. All that was in the world was the laughter and Alfred's pouty face that was starting to turn into laughter as well, and the fact that Matthew was only wearing a small white towel that made him feel like an idiot. The world was perfect, in its own stupidly imperfect way.

"Okay, okay," Alfred laughed, "you win. I have no idea why this is so funny, but it is." A smile was spread across his face. Matthew never wanted that to end. Never, never, never.

Matthew, still grinning, turned around and opened the closet. "You might want to go now," he said, deciding that his brother was very bad at taking hints.

"Oh! Yeah, sorry dude." Matthew didn't bother turning around as his brother left. As soon as the door clicked shut, the smile on Matthew's face disappeared, along with the golden feeling that had been spreading through his chest. It was almost as if Alfred was like some kind of happy drug. Strange.

Matthew threw open the closet, reality coming back to him. Was he a Canadian? It seemed such an insignificant detail, but he had thought of himself in that way, unintentionally. It was very possible that after the first flashback, tidbits would begin to go into place, until total recall was possible. Matthew sighed, rubbing his forehead. There was already too much to worry about. Though this was a positive, it was another factor in an already overloaded equation. If it was possible, Matthew almost wished that recall was impossible, so that he wouldn't have to worry about trying to get his memory back and concentrate on getting off the island.

Matthew shifted through the clothes, pulling out a blue collared shirt. After a moment, he realized it was far too big for him, and put it back, reaching for a red sweat jacket instead, much like the one that he had worn last night. Pulling it on, he shifted through some of the drawers at the back, until he found pants and underwear. Praying that the boxers were his and not his brother's, Matthew pulled them on and then proceeded to struggle into the skinny jeans.

Once that was over with, Matthew wondered if he needed shoes. Deciding against it, he walked out of the room, where Alfred was leaning against the wall, a thoughtful expression on his face. Matthew poked him on the shoulder and chuckled when Alfred gave a start.

"Hey, Alfred, am I Canadian?"

Alfred gave Matthew a strange look, but nodded. "Uh… yeah. How… did you know? Did you have another flashback or something?" Matthew shook his head.

"No, not exactly. I thought of myself as Canadian even though I couldn't remember such a thing. Maybe… maybe all the memories are coming back, now that I've had my first flashback." Matthew studied his brother's expression closely. He knew Alfred should be overjoyed at the news, but for some reason, his brother grew pale at the news, and his smile was shaky. Was there something that Alfred didn't want his brother to remember? Matthew mentally shook away the paranoia. Alfred was probably just in shock. The whole ordeal wasn't exactly normal.

"That's… great! It'll be great to have you back, bro. We've… had a lot of times together that makes me sad you've forgotten, but maybe that will change soon! Yeah." Alfred finished awkwardly. Desperate to change the subject he said, "Oh, um, about that whole nationality thing, uh, yeah. You're a Canadian, but I'm American. Arthur was – is – British, and Francis is French." Matthew raised an eyebrow.

"Seems very versatile."

"Oh. Yeah, I guess. I mean, we were adopted and all…" Alfred said, his blue eyes flickering away for a moment. Matthew realized that there was something that Alfred wasn't telling him, but he decided that there were more important things to worry about than the specifics of their family life.

"Are we… blood related?"

"Uh… yeah. We're twins, actually. Fraternal, I guess, because while we look really similar, there are obvious differences…" Alfred cleared his throat, obviously regretting that he hadn't changed the subject to a less suspicious topic. Matthew wondered how many things his brother told him were lies, and whether he could trust him at all.

"Do you have a plan?"

"What?"

"A plan, to get off the island.

Alfred considered, eventually shaking his head. "Uh… wait for someone to realize we're gone, and then get rescued? I dunno. Honestly, we were supposed to be gone for a while, but we didn't _tell _anyone where we had gone, so they think we could be anywhere…"

Matthew shook his head. "Didn't we tell _anyone _where we had gone? Anyone at all? Do they even know this place exists?"

Alfred bit his lip. "I didn't tell anyone, but I guess you might've. But you insisted that we go really quickly, so I don't think so." Matthew blanched. He _insisted?_ That didn't sound good. It reminded him of the theory that he had come up with in the shower, and the last thing Matthew wanted to do was counteract _that. _

"We should try to come up with something, then. The last thing I want to do is starve to death on this place with no memory of who I am. That would really suck, eh." Matthew noted the verbal tick that he had unconsciously spoken at the end of his sentence. Alfred wasn't lying about being Canadian, at least.

Alfred grinned slyly, and the sight sent shivers down Matthew's spine for some reason. "I think I know something that could help us with that."

_-_- ϔ -_-_

**So… yeah. Not much actually happened in this chapter, but I had to plant the seeds **_**somehow. **_**Yay for slight cliffhangers! To make up for the lack of anything, I promise to update quickly with a chapter far more entertaining. **

**To my reviewers:**

**Kira92: I hate it when technical stuff messes things up! :( Anyways, Matthew is just going to get more and more confused as time wears on, at least until he gets his memory back (I'm not so cruel that Mattie will have to go through life with no idea of what happened before it…)**

**Teh Llamainator: I've written plenty of retarded-sounding sentences in my life, don't worry about it :') But thank you for saying such nice things!**

**DVP21: Completely right on that one. Things are just going to get weirder and weirder. Thank you for reviewing!**

**Kouya-kun: *brings out digital cake* Ta-daaaah! I should do this thing for whoever steals the comment virginity gets a one-shot of whatever they choose… **

**Anyone else who wants to leave a review, please do so! Also, the more reviews I get, the faster the next chapter comes. Please don't be shy about constructive criticism, just no hating. Till next time!**


	4. Chapter 3

**Hey there! Amazingly, I haven't forgotten anything from the last Author's notes, so I don't have much to say. But be warned – often I will forget something I wanted to say, so you'll have to check up here for the rest of the information. That is, if you read author's notes.**

**Disclaimer: Don't own**

**Warnings: Swearing, Ameripan, OOC-ness, pervy Matthew**

_-_- ϔ -_-_

_This wasn't exactly what I had in mind when Alfred said he had an idea, _Matthew thought grimly, attempting to worm a red peg into his smallest ship. "Err… hit." He said without much enthusiasm. Alfred did a little happy dance.

"Oh yeah! The hero strikes again! I'm totally going to kick your ass, Mattie!" Alfred shouted, simple joy scrawled across his face. Matthew sighed. If his brother was this annoying all the time, maybe he didn't want to remember.

Pushing hair out of his face, Matthew meekly asked "Um… Alfred, we've been playing board games for hours now, and we _still _haven't thought of anything. I think we should just call it a night." The only reason that Matthew hadn't mentioned this before is that Alfred was having so much fun. Matthew hated seeing Alfred sad, because then it made Matthew feel guilty and angry at the same time, though he couldn't say why.

"Aw, come on! It's only, like, ten o' clock. We've stayed up way later, Mattie. Besides, I think you just want to get out of finishing Battleship, since I'm way better." A flash of annoyance rose through Matthew, and his usually pretty face twisted in anger. Alfred, who had been laughing, immediately silenced. The American looked nervous… no. Not nervous. He looked downright scared. Matthew blinked in confusion and looked down at his own hands. For a moment, he could see that he was holding a beautiful gold compass, words scratched around the edge. Then it was gone, leaving Matthew flustered and ever so slightly terrified.

_-_- Ж -_-_

"Japan!"

The Asian nation looked up from the notes he was reviewing. China was standing over him, expression halfway between annoyance and worry. "Ah, China-san. Is something the matter?"

"That's what I was going to ask you! You've been strangling your leg, aru!" Japan looked down. His knuckles were white from gripping his thigh, and his nails were digging into his skin. He immediately relaxed his hand, rubbing the sore spot. China shook his head. "What is up with you lately? You stare off into space and get flustered a lot more easily, aru. Are you getting old?"

Japan sighed. "China-san, you are older than I am. No, I am worried about America-kun. He hasn't sent me a text message in over four weeks. He usually sends at least twice a day. When I attempted to contact him the other day, it went straight to voicemail."

China frowned. "Did you try to go to his house, aru?"

"No, I felt that would be rude without asking his permission first."

"But aren't you dating him, aru? Surely you must be allowed at his house!" At this, Japan's face became a light pink, and he looked away, embarrassed. China rolled his eyes. "Oh, come on, Japan. Everyone knows about it, and no one cares, aru. It's not even political." When Japan didn't respond, China shrugged, dropping it.

At the head of the table, Germany was looking over a few notes. When he had organized the stack, he cleared his throat, and began to shout. "THIS IS A WORLD MEETING, SO I WOULD KINDLY APPRECIATE IT IF EVERYONE SAT DOWN AND SHUT UP!" The few nations who had been standing quickly took their seats, including China. After a few moments of everyone trying to find their notes, the room became silent. Germany looked pleased that everyone had done as he "asked" for once. "Is anyone missing?"

There were a few moments of silence as everyone looked around. Finally, someone spoke up. "There are two empty chairs next to me. I know one of them is America's, but I don't know who else is gone. The git probably dragged some poor soul off for one of his harebrained schemes." Germany scowled.

"We cannot convene the meeting without all members present! Does anyone know where America and… the other nation are?" More silence. It was at this point that China noticed that Japan had turned the color of flour.

"Don't worry," China whispered, leaning over, "America's probably just sick or something, aru. He's a strong nation. He can take care of himself. Besides, there's no way I would let America run off with all that debt he owes me, aru."

"Does no one have any idea?" Germany asked. When no one said anything, Germany just sighed, smoothing back his hair. "We must postpone the meeting until everyone is present. Someone should check America's hotel room to see if he thought the meeting was at a later time. This wouldn't be the first incident he's done something like that. Also, I'll check the members list to see who's missing. Does anyone volunteer to check America's room?"

A few people looked at Japan, and the Asian nation swallowed, raising his hand. "I volunteer."

Germany nodded. "Japan, good. If we find everyone in time, the meeting will begin at twelve o' clock instead of ten o' clock. Is that acceptable?"

France cleared his throat. "Will the meeting be running for the same amount of hours? Because I have a date I have to-" Germany's face turned bright red.

"France! I am talking about business matters, not dates! You will have to tell this person you're sorry because you will not be available due to business! Do I make myself clear?"

"Oui…" France mumbled, sinking back into his chair. Germany pinched the bridge of his nose, breathing hard.

"Japan, I will meet you in the front lobby in twenty minutes. We can then contact all of the members with the plan according to our findings." Japan nodded, still pale. He wasn't convinced by China's assurances, and wouldn't be until he saw America safe in his room.

_-_- Ж -_-_

_Matthew grimaced, edging away from the muddy puddle that his brother was splashing in. "C'mon Mattie," Alfred cried, "It'll be fun! Don't be such a wuss."_

"_Arthur said not to splash in the puddles," Matthew said, "He said he'll spank us if we get our clothes dirty again. You know how much he hates that."_

"_Exactly, that's the point! Old Artie doesn't got nothing on us! Besides, what's life without a little adventure?" At this, Alfred splashed a handful of dirty water all over his unfortunate younger brother, causing Matthew to shriek, and Alfred to laugh._

"_Boys, are you out there?" Called a British voice. Alfred swore under his breath. _

"_Crap, it's Artie. We have to go, quick." Alfred stood up, at this point completely soaked with the water. He grabbed his younger brother's hand and pulled him along, running straight for the woods behind the mansion they lived in. Matthew was about to protest when he was smacked in the face by a low tree branch. His brother was going to pay for this later. _

"_I think we're safe now." Alfred said after they had gone quite a ways in. The young American was resting his hands on his knees, and panting softly. _

_Matthew looked around. The forest was quite beautiful, not too open, but not so dense that you couldn't walk two feet without tripping on something. Green light filtered through the leaves, and Matthew felt calm. "What're we gonna to now? We can't go back; otherwise Arthur will use the belt for sure." _

"_Hmm…" Alfred said, seriously considering. "I know! We can play explorer!" He began to fumble with a fanny pack that rested on his left hip. Matthew was well acquainted with that pack. In it, Alfred held the rather dubious items he used on his "adventures". _

_Alfred pulled out a beautiful gold-plated compass. Matthew's eyes boggled. "Where'd you get _that?" _He asked, reaching a tentative hand out to touch it._

_Alfred frowned when Matthew made his move, but didn't resist and let his little brother run thin fingers over the instrument. "Artie gave it to me. He says that one day, he's going to take me on a ship and sail me all over the world, but I'm gonna need a compass to find my way." _

"_Arthur didn't get me anything like that," Matthew pouted. Nevertheless, he was still entranced by the simplistic beauty of the thing. _

_Alfred popped open the cover, revealing the actual device. "Where do you want to go? North? We could be arctic explorers! What should we be trying to find?"_

"_Uh…" Matthew wasn't sure how to respond. "Maybe… maybe we could be finding an ancient Inuit walrus-tusk carving?" That made sense, right?_

"_No, that's too boring! It should be… an ancient cursed carving that says anyone who touches it will die a thousand deaths!"_

"_A walrus-tusk carving." Matthew stated, sighing at his brother's tendency to over-exaggerate things. Honestly. Even just a normal carving would be very interesting to the scientific and archeological world. Besides, how could someone die "a thousand deaths"?_

If one was immortal, of course,_ Matthew thought, but his dream self quickly pushed that idea away. Immortality. How ridiculous._

"_O…kay! That way is north!" Alfred said, pointing in a direction that looked like every other direction. Matthew decided to give his brother the benefit of the doubt and followed him into the forest. A long time passed like that, with Alfred checking the compass and leading the brothers deeper into the forest. Matthew was shivering soon, his wet clothes making the cold air even colder. Alfred didn't seem affected. Perhaps he was too excited to realize._

"_A-Alfie?"_

"_Yeah?"_

"_W-we should h-head back s-soon. It's g-getting colder. A-Arthur is g-gonna worry about u-us, eh." Alfred pouted._

"_Well… I guess if you're cold. The hero can't be making others uncomfortable. I guess we can head home." Alfred began walking the other way, still checking the compass._

_As they walked, the woods became darker and darker. Alfred squinted at the compass face. "It's so dark. I can barely see the needle." Matthew's breath hitched. Were they lost? Had they already passed the house? How were they going to survive the night? There were wild animals and savages roaming all over. Matthew's stomach twisted at the thought of their blood spattered on the forest ground…_

_The Canadian sat down, tears running down his cheeks. His brother squatted by him, rubbing a hand in comforting circular motions on Matthew's back. "Hey, don't cry. Remember what Artie said? He said that if we ever got lost, there was a town just east of the woods. If we go east, we can find it. All we have to do is wait there, and England will come and get us."  
_

"_B-but what if he doesn't come?" Matthew sobbed. _

"_He will, don't worry. Artie always keeps his promises! Besides, he can't forget about us. We're too heroic to be forgotten!" Matthew smiled a little at that. He loved it when Alfred included him in his hero delusions, even if the Canadian was forced to play the sidekick._

"_Where are we gonna sleep? It's cold out here…" Matthew whispered, shivering. _

"_Uh… piles of leaves are warm, right? We can sleep in one of those. Plus, if we sleep together, it'll be fine! We can't even die." Alfred stood, gathering fallen leaves into heaps, throwing away any wet ones he found. Matthew watched him, his body still shaking. _

"_D-do you have a tinderbox in your pack? W-we could l-light a f-fire…"_

_Alfred straightened, shaking his head. "Sorry, Mattie, I don't. I have a magnifying glass, but there's hardly any moon tonight. Even if there was, that'd be a bitch to try to light…" Alfred sighed, looking back down at his pile. "You wanna call it a night? I think the pile's big enough, and you look half frozen to death." Matthew nodded, standing shakily. Taking his brother's hand, they lay down, heaping handfuls of leaves over themselves. They were quickly submerged, only the very tops of their heads sticking out._

_Matthew couldn't see a thing, but he blindly scooted himself towards his brother's warmth. He was glad it was dark. The blush on his cheeks was heavier than the time that France had read him that book with all the dirty things in it. He was used to sleeping with Alfred, but not like this…_

"_Good night, Mattie." Alfred whispered, making Matthew shiver. _

"_Bonne nuit, mon cher frère." _

_-_- Ж -_-_

Germany tapped his wristwatch impatiently. 10:27. First America (and Canada, as he had learned) was late, and now Japan. Usually, the Asian nation was just as punctual as he was. What could possibly be holding him up?

There was a shuffling sound from one of the hallways. Germany turned. It was defiantly Japan, but something was wrong. He was paler than usual, and his black hair looked messy. As Germany examined him closer, he realized that he had also been crying.

"Japan? Did something happen?" He said cautiously. Japan sat down on one of the overstuffed sofas, looking like he was holding back from breaking down right there.

"A-America-kun wasn't t-there…" Japan whispered, his voice trembling slightly. Germany sat down beside him, awkwardly placing a hand on his shoulder. The European wasn't very good at comforting people.

"I'm sure he… he just thought it was at a later time, and didn't bother checking in. He's probably stuffing his face at McDonald's right now. Why don't you give him a call?"

"I did. It went to h-his voicemail. I… haven't b-been able t-to contact h-him for a while now. T-there's s-something seriously w-wrong…" Japan said. He straightened, trying to regain his composure. "W-Who was missing b-besides America? Their d-disappearance may be connected."

Germany decided to give Japan the benefit of the doubt. "Canada. Apparently, he's America's brother. I think you're right Japan. Canada is somehow connected with the reason America's gone, though it may be America's fault. After all, America is known for dragging people into things."

"I suppose…" Japan murmured. "Does this mean the meeting will be postponed until they are both found?"

"Yes. Though it pains me, everyone is critical to the meeting, especially a superpower such as America." Germany sighed, smoothing his already-perfect hair back. "Japan, would you mind being the one who searches for America? I have a meeting I have to attend to tomorrow in my own country."

"Ah, I would be pleased to." Japan murmured, standing. Germany blinked.

"Where are you going?"

"I am going to re-pack my suitcase, then fly out to Washington D.C. to talk to America's boss. There is no problem, right Germany-san?"

Germany frowned. "You don't have to leave immediately…"

"It would be more efficient, though. We can re-plan the meeting sooner. Thank you Germany-san." With that and a bow, Japan quickly left, almost running towards the elevator. Germany sighed, sending the pre-prepared text message to all the countries, stating that the meeting would have to be postponed even further. The German rubbed his forehead. This was not going to be pleasant.

_-_- Ж -_-_

**Happy 2013 everyone! It's way too late to be a New Year's update, but this is the first time (I think- I have such a bad memory and I'm too lazy to check) I've updated in 2013.**

**Mattie, why are you already getting pervy thoughts at this age?**

**Not a whole lot of action between America and Canada in this chapter (at least not in real life). I'm sorry about the Ameripan, but there won't be a whole lot of it, but there will be more. Also, I fail at writing about Japan. I want to make him upset that his boyfriend's disappeared, but not so upset that he's completely OOC…**

**And yes – the compass that Matthew envisioned is the same one that is in his flashback. I also apologize for any mistakes I made while writing about the past. I'm too lazy to research too much **

**Bonne nuit, mon cher frère – Goodnight, my dear brother**

**To my reviewers:**

**Dark Void Princess 21: As you could probably tell, this chapter was a lot less awkward (probably because there wasn't much to be awkward about in the first place, but still…)**

**QuickSilverFox3: I am sooo tempted to give a spoiler here, but I know if I do, everyone's going to figure it out and be like WHAAAT before I want them to be XD**

**G.A-motoharu: Haha, I thought it would be so obvious, but I guess not *shrugs*. Also, your English is great for someone who's not a native speaker! I'm actually from **_**New **_**Mexico, so everyone thinks I speak Spanish and eat tacos all the time. (Yo soy un estudiante de español… pero, yo fallo tan mal XD)**

**Kira92: Holy **_**shit, **_**long review! (Don't worry, the review whore loves it ;D) I hope I am not killing you too much. I've always sucked at solving mysteries as well. I can't even read Nancy Drew without being surprised by the ending, and after the end of Saw, I was just like "wut." **

**This is a very good observation, and this is going to lead to something big ;)**

***laughs* Yeah, it's more than brotherly love. I don't torture all us yaoi fangirls that much.**

**Hmm… I'm not sure what you mean by this, exactly, because I promise you, a lot of stuff happened in the house…**

**That's a good point. I hadn't even thought of that '^.^**

**To you too!**

**tantei no hime: Eheh… *scratches head apologetically* I suppose you can skip it when it comes to that…**

**Kouya-Kun: I do that all the time! And yes, Alfred is being strangely OOC… usually, he's about as careful as an elephant lumbering through the jungle (and about as strong).**

**Teh Llamainator: *snort* That… was lovely. Cuckoo is going boing-boing. I'm going to have to remember that one…**


	5. Chapter 4

**Hello again! If this is late, I'm really sorry. With school and everything, it's been a little crazy! Not to mention I like to bite off more than I can chew fanfiction-wise… In fact, if I stuck with my school-time writing schedule, **_**Falling Snow **_**should be updated once every six weeks. And it's not. Which means I fail. Badly. :'(**

**This chapter is kind of interesting, since it's the first time I'm using America's POV. This won't happen often, since America would give too much away, but sometimes, it's more practical, and I can give you fluffies little clues about what the crap is going on. Believe me, half the time I don't even know what's going on -_- Honestly, I'm not the kind of writer who meticulously plans out their story… I don't know if that's a bad thing or a good thing.**

**Disclaimer: You know the story. **

**Warnings: Swearing, OOC-ness (I still suck at writing Japan), OMGWTF-ness (lol)**

_-_- ϔ -_-_

It almost felt as though that Matthew was drowning, but in a rather pleasant way. Drowning in a sea of comfort and warmth, perhaps, or if one wanted to be philosophical, drowning in a sea of suffocating love. Either way, Matthew was content to just lay there, a stupid smile on his face. He was back in his bed. Arthur must've found Alfred and him. Perhaps Francis would stop by to check up on them, make them some delicious French breakfast while Arthur sulked in the corner until Alfred ran up to him and gave him one of his Hollywood smiles…

Something grunted beside him and shifted around. Matthew cracked open an eye. Alfred lay next to him, deep in sleep. Funny thing, Alfred was still wearing Texas…

Matthew sat up, rubbing his eyes, cold realization running over him. Alfred didn't wear glasses… It wasn't his childhood. Francis was not about to stop by. He was stuck in an arctic wasteland. Sighing, Matthew glanced at the digital clock on the night table. 6:05. Deciding not to wake his brother up, Matthew stiffly rolled – more like tumbled – out of bed. Licking his lips, Matthew kicked on some slippers that were resting underneath the bed and walked down to the kitchen. Perhaps he would make breakfast for his brother. That seemed like a nice gesture…

Deciding that pancakes were a safe bet, Matthew put on an apron he found hanging in the kitchen closet-turned-cupboard and searched around for some flour, eggs and other ingredients. To his amazement, it seemed like his hands knew what he was doing even if he didn't. It allowed him to let his mind wander. What had happened last night? He remembered playing battleship… getting angry at Alfred for some reason… and… and then what? A heaviness in his hands… a glint of golden words…

Matthew had made the batter and was pouring it into the hot pan. Yes, that's right… the golden compass. The instrument had scared him, badly… and that's when it cut off. Cut off to that flashback in the forest.

Picking up a spatula, Matthew flipped the four pancakes, keeping an eye on them to see when they would be ready. What about that flashback? Had he been flustered around his brother even at such a young age? And something about the memory seemed… off. Matthew couldn't put his finger on it…

Matthew slid the spatula under the pancakes, flipping them onto the waiting plate. Pouring more of the batter, he was so deep in thought he didn't hear the creaking from the upstairs bedroom, nor the voice that called out.

In fact, he didn't hear anything until a door slammed open, causing the Canadian to jump, nearly dropping the pancake on his spatula. "MATTHEW!" A voice screamed, and Matthew whirled around. "MATTHEW, WHERE ARE YOU?!"

"Alfred?" Matthew called out. His brother didn't seem like the kind to wake up so early. And yet, there he was, running like a madman down the stairs and bursting into the kitchen. His glasses were askew, and his sky-blue eyes were wide. He was panting, and looked just as afraid as he did last night. But when he saw Matthew standing in front of the oven with an apron on, he seemed to realize what was going on.

"Oh, Mattie…" He breathed, relaxing, "You really scared me there. Why didn't you wake me up first?"

"I… I wanted it to be a surprise… I'm sorry…" Matthew mumbled softly. Why was he apologizing? He could wake up before his brother, couldn't he? Though the protectiveness was flattering, it was starting to get annoying. He wasn't a complete child. Though he needed help, he wasn't helpless. Gritting his teeth, Matthew turned back to his pancakes, taking them off the stove and turning the flame off. Carrying the full plate to the kitchen table, he set the pancakes down and turned back to set the table. Alfred was still standing there awkwardly, watching his younger brother's movements.

Once Matthew had put down all the plates, silverware, and toppings, he sat down and began to serve himself, taking half the pancakes. Alfred took the hint and sat down, quiet. It struck Matthew then, that he had only really known his brother for a day. When they had first met, that didn't really count, since Matthew had fallen asleep soon after their meeting. They had spent all of yesterday together, Alfred rarely letting his brother out of his sight. This would be day two.

What did he even feel towards his brother? Matthew wasn't quite sure. He had barely met the man, and yet… there seemed to be some kind of strange, deeper connection. It wasn't really _love, _per say, but there was definitely something going on underneath the surface. It didn't really seem to fit into any emotional category that Matthew could think of. The warm feeling that pooled in Matthew's chest when Alfred was around felt strangely… basic, yet it was almost inhuman in a way.

"Sorry about last night, bro… I guess I was kind of insensitive, huh?" Alfred laughed nervously, attempting to hide the awkward atmosphere by shoving an entire pancake in his mouth. Matthew chose to ignore this, instead leaning forward slightly.

"This is going to sound like a weird question, but… what _did _happen last night? I… don't remember all too well, eh…" Matthew's small smile contorted into something that bore resemblance to a lemon-sucking grimace, but with more concern. Alfred stopped what he was doing – which happened to be slathering a ridiculous and quite frankly unnecessary amount of butter on one of his pancakes – and stared at his younger brother, wide-eyed. Matthew squirmed slightly under the gaze, not entirely sure what was going through his brother's mind.

"Uh… yeah. Well… we were… playing Battleship, I think? Yeah. And you got kind of mad and said that we should be doing better stuff… I laughed… and then…"

"And then?" Matthew urged. Alfred seemed to be hesitating about something.

"And then you… fell asleep." Alfred finished awkwardly, avoiding eye contact. It was obvious that he was being slow and careful with his words, tiptoeing around the subject. Matthew had had enough of tiptoeing.

"Dammit, Alfred!" Matthew shouted, slamming his fist against the table, causing the glasses to rattle and his brother to jump, "Stop _lying _to me! Something happened last night, and I want you to stop being so fucking terrified of… of whatever you're scared of, and just tell me!"

Alfred looked stunned at his brother's outburst. Matthew's blood was pounding in his ears, and he could count the heartbeats of silence. 1… 2… 3… 4… 5… 6…

"I… You…" Alfred tried to start, but couldn't seem to formulate the words. "That's… Last night… you… you got angry. Really angry. Your face… was terrifying. It was like… you were about to rip my throat out. For laughing at you." Matthew winced at those words. They sounded… insane. "I was… startled. Scared. I stopped laughing, and… you looked… amazed. You couldn't believe what you had just done. You looked down at your palms, and then… fainted."

"Wait – I looked down at my _palms?" _Matthew asked urgently. Alfred expression morphed to one confusion. Of all the things that Matthew could've asked about…

"Um… yes? You just kind of glanced down and passed out…"

"So… I wasn't holding anything?"

Now Alfred looked worried. Pancakes forgotten, he scooted his chair over to his brother, wrapping an arm around Matthew's shoulders. "No… there was nothing in your hands. Did you… see something?" Matthew was quiet, the evidence seemingly coming together in his mind.

"… Am I crazy?"

Jerking back, Alfred's eyes widened. "What? Bro, where did that come from? No! I mean… you did see something, huh?" Matthew nodded. "Uh… it was probably just from lack of sleep, or stress, or something. No, you're not crazy. At least not to my knowledge." Alfred attempted to smile at his brother, but he fell slightly short of reaching full warmth.

_This isn't right. _Matthew wanted Alfred to be happy… truly happy, like he was in the bedroom the day before. A feeling of guilt washed over him. He couldn't even treat his brother right… Matthew sighed, leaning back in his seat. He just wanted to _remember. _The uncertainty was killing him. It had only been a day, and yet… Matthew was so frustrated at not knowing who he was, who _Alfred _was.

"Hey…" Alfred clutched at his brother's shoulder, leaning into the half-hug. "I know you're probably confused as _shit _right now, but you know what? It's gonna be okay. Maybe… we can leave for home soon." Matthew's head jerked up at this, his eyes widening.

"You… you think that's possible?!" He asked, almost not daring to believe it. Alfred nodded, his smile widening.

"Yeah! I mean… you must've planned someway to leave, right? Maybe if we look around, we can find some clues on your plans!" Alfred gave an encouraging smile, tightening his grip on his brother's shoulders.

Matthew frowned. Alfred was hiding something… again. But it was a good idea to look around… Maybe Matthew had a planner or something, something that could tell them how to get out. Though it still seemed strange that he had told Alfred _nothing… _

Or had he? Perhaps Alfred was lying, telling Matthew that he didn't know how to leave, but in reality, he knew exactly what to do. Matthew bit his lip, chewing thoughtfully. He would wait for the right moment… then he would go up to his brother and ask a few questions.

_-_- ϔ -_-_

By this point, Japan was nearly frustrated enough to slam his palms against the table and demand to know what was going on. Nearly being the key word. Japan refused to lose his cool, especially at a time like this, and with the threat of foreign relations crashing down like a tsunami.

The President was leaning back in her swivel chair, sighing as she rubbed her temples with the flat of her hand. "I truly am sorry, Mr. Japan, but that is all that America told me. If there was anything else, I would tell you immediately. I don't like the concept of America missing any more than you do – probably less, even."

"What _exactly _did America say to you before he left? Please, Mrs. President, every little detail helps."

She exhaled softly again, closing her eyes and pinching the bridge of her nose as she tried to remember. "He… he came over about a month ago, a little more. He told me that he was going on a short vacation, about a week or so long, with his brother, um… Can… Canada. He said it'd be fine since he wouldn't miss the meeting. I figured since he was hanging out with family and all that I would let him off paperwork and all that."

"Did America-kun tell you where he was going?"

The President shook her head. "Well… not exactly. It was implied that he was going to Canada. If I had to guess, they probably went to Canada's house. He might not be there, though…" She trailed off, distant.

Japan nodded. "Thank you for your time, Mrs. President. You were very helpful." It wasn't perfect, but at least it was something to go off of. The Asian nation began to stand up, wincing as pain shot through his lower back. He really had to stretch more…

"Wait, Japan!" The President called out. The older man paused, looking back at her. "This isn't the greatest time, but… I need to talk about your… _relationship _with America."

Japan felt himself flush a bright red. "Ah… yes. Is there something in particular you want to discuss?"

"Well… not really in _particular, _but… I just want to say – and I'm not saying this is going to happen for sure or anything like that – but if you two decide to 'break up', please don't hold any sort of grudge against him, or our country as a whole. Japan is one of America's strongest alliances. And-" she added, smiling a little, "Kiku Honda is one of Alfred F. Jones' best friends. He would be devastated if he lost not only a lover, but a friend as well. Putting him in an emotional rut wouldn't do anyone any good."

Japan wasn't entirely sure how to respond. It was hard to tell if the President was being cynical on his part, or sincere on America's. Either way Japan simply gave a tiny smile, graciously murmuring "Of course. I shall keep your words in mind."

The President looked relieved, and she sat back down. "Thank you, Mr. Japan. I am glad we have had the chance to have this conversation."

"Likewise." Japan gave a small bow before leaving the room. As soon as the heavy wooden doors had closed behind him and he walked out of earshot of the security guards, Japan pulled out his cellphone. Unlocking it, he quickly pressed the fourth speed dial and held the phone up to his ear. The first ring was not even done echoing before the phone was picked up.

"_Hallo? _Japan?"

"こんばんは Germany-san. I have found a new lead concerning America and Canada. Apparently America has gone off for a family vacation with his brother. They were supposed to come back in a week… it has been over a month."

"…Really. That… is strange, to say the least. Do you know where they went?"

"The President is not completely sure, but she thinks that they probably went to Canada's house. I'm going to fly there right now. If they are not there… I suppose I shall check America's apartment. This truly is an unusual predicament… what could have held them back from coming home for over three weeks?"

"It's probably just America slacking off again." Germany sighed, and over the phone, it sounded like a rush of static. "_Mein bruder_ is calling me over, probably for something stupid. Contact me again if you find out anything else."

"Of course. サヨナラ Germany-san."

"_Tschüss."_

The line went dead. Japan turned off his phone, placing it back in his pocket. There were some airline tickets that needed to be purchased.

_-_- ϔ -_-_

Reading superhero comics while hanging himself upside-down on the couch was one of America's favorite pastimes, especially when there was nothing else to do. He had been helping Canada look for clues about their escape, but he had decided to take a break for a while. It wasn't likely that they'd find anything anyways – his little brother had a knack for hiding things in places no one would ever find. Not even himself.

America was tempted to just haul off to the wilderness, escape the beautiful house that had become his prison. It wasn't like he and Canada would _die_. But they could still get hopelessly lost. America didn't like the idea of spending the rest of eternity wandering the Canadian wilderness in the freezing cold.

America flipped the page, chewing on the inside of his check slightly. Canada knew something was wrong – the American could tell. He'd have to tell his little brother that they were countries sooner or later. Canada would probably think he was crazy. Might even run away… America was struck by the sudden image of his brother wandering the Arctic tundra, shivering as he dug in the ground, searching for food. America shivered softly. After messing up so bad the first time… he couldn't allow Canada to suffer any more.

A huge crash resounded from upstairs, where Canada was searching. America literally fell off the couch, dropping the issue of Superman. Sitting up, the world began to spin as the blood rushed from his head. "Mattie!" he called as best as he could, stumbling to his feet.

A scream ripped through the air, and America struggled up the stairs, wincing as his head pounded painfully. "Mattie! Mattie, what's going on?!"

Silence. America almost would have preferred another scream. Reaching the top of the stairs, he yanked the door open, almost tearing it off its hinges. A piece of paper fluttered to the ground, landing in front of America. A very familiar piece of paper.

"_Shit." _America breathed.

_-_- ϔ -_-_

**Mattie's angry :o**

**Lol, cliffhanger is cliffhanger. I feel so guilty for putting in cliffhangers, and yet… I don't. Must be because I'm a heartless demon secretly. **

**If there are any inaccuracies in the Japanese/German, I'm sorry :( I asked my friend Kouya-kun about the Japanese, so I at least know I got that right. Maybe. Actually, I don't know if the symbols (hiragana?) are right, so… yep. Honestly, I'm so terrified that I'm going to get Japanese wrong… dunno why.**

**The story is actually moving along faster than I originally planned. I know it might not seem like it, but still… I have a bad tendency to drag out stuff until it's just ridiculous. I'm going to try to fix this, and so I'll try to make this story shorter. **

**Someone asked me about my reason why I respond to comments in the author's notes instead of PM, like a normal person does. I don't really know… I think in author's notes, it's more open, and if I give a small spoiler to someone, I give it to **_**everyone. **_**Plus, I like how I can reach out to commenters! It makes me feel close with you guys uwu**

**Hallo – Hello **

**こんばんは – ****Hello (formal)**

**Mein bruder – my brother**

**サヨナラ – ****Goodbye (formal)**

**Tschüss – Goodbye**

**To my reviewers:**

**DVP21: I'm glad to hear that! There'll be more of Japan's escapades in the future. And yes. France is France. IN YOUR PANTS. *shot for pervertedness* '^.^**

**Teh Llamainator: Was it now? I don't remember that at all… **

**Well, Canada **_**was **_**raised by France after all… Onhonhon~ Originally, I wanted to have America and Canada discover a porn book, but then I was like "Nah…"**

**Well, I'm glad you like my Japan… and that you've finally grown to like Ameripan XD**

**Kouya-kun: When is he not? XD**

**Oh, you pervert you~ :3**

**tantei no hime: I'm sure most people didn't see it coming, lol. Actually, originally it was going to be RusAme, but then I realized that wouldn't work for multiple reasons.**

**;) Maybeeeee~**

**G.A-motoharu: Gah! I'm sorry! Please don't die! *revives you with magical AmeCan incestual powers***

**Heh, not really. I mean, I'm American and I'm actually not that fond of apple pie… and food proportions that are off the chart vaguely disgust me. Maybe **_**I'm**_** just weird? :) **

**I think a lot of them will, sorry. The only one who really knows what's going on is America, and he isn't fond of talking about that particular subject…**

**Sort of… well, Matthew's behavior will be more and more explained as time goes on. **

**Anyways, thanks for reviewing and stuff!**

**ThatOneGingerKid: Pfft. Believe me, if anyone should be getting creeped out, it'd be- *claps hand over mouth***

**Le Guest: Abracadabra.**

**And for anyone else who wants to leave a review, please do! Constructive criticism is appreciated, but flames are just silly. Not in the good way. Reviews make me very happy, and every time one is posted, I have a little spaz attack~ :) Only you guys can do this, and I am eternally grateful towards you!**


	6. Chapter 5

**Gaaaah, fuck…**

**If I had titled chapters, this one would be called "Picture Perfect". Or "Photo Finish". Nah, the first one's better. **

**Disclaimer: … :P**

**Warnings: Swearing, implied pedophilia, historical inaccuracies, mentions of incest, racism, mentions of sex toys (lol Mattie, you so pervy), mentions of stalking (this chapter is just a barrel of laughs, isn't it?)**

_-_- ϔ -_-_

_The inn owner peered hungrily down at Alfred through his spectacles as though the boy was a freshly-made frosted cake in the bakery window. This metaphor wouldn't leave Matthew's head, and it did nothing to help his unease as he and his brother attempted to haggle. "__35 pounds __is just ridiculous," Alfred spat out angrily, "This isn't exactly the __Buckingham House, __you know." Matthew nodded, determinedly looking right above the man's eyes. There was something about this man's gaze that unnerved him to no end._

"_Ah, but the extra charge is for protection," the innkeeper reasoned, smiling slowly. His eyes never left Matthew. "Two young'uns like you need to be careful. There are all sorts of ill-intentioned people in this world. You could get hurt – or worse, killed." Alfred snorted indignantly, and Matthew froze up, afraid that he would reveal their colonial status._

"_We can take care of ourselves, thanks. 15 pounds or we walk."_

_The innkeeper clicked his tongue indignantly. "Oh, honestly. This inn is a quality establishment. 30." Matthew glanced over at his brother. While it was true that 30 _was _rather pricey, they couldn't be too picky. They had slept the night in the forest, and when they awoke, they had marched east to the village. It was further than they had thought, and it took more than half a day. It was likely they would be spending the night in the village, especially considering that Arthur would probably want to wait a while to see if the twins showed up. They couldn't go back to the forest, because the villagers now knew they were there. Someone could follow them back into the woods._

_Alfred snorted once again. "Quality establishment? Please. My servant's quarters are higher quality establishments than this hovel. 20 pounds."_

"_27." _

"_23."_

"… _25, and that's my final offer." _

_Matthew glanced once more at his brother. This time, Alfred met his gaze and nodded thoughtfully. "Done," he said, unzipping his pack and pulling out a coin pouch. After a moment of counting, he stood on tip-toe to place the money on the counter. The innkeeper took it silently, fishing a key from his trouser pocket and unlocking an unseen __drawer__. The clinking of coins could be heard as he dropped Alfred's money into the compartment._

"_It was nice doing business with you." Matthew offered quietly, feeling a little embarrassed that he hadn't helped his brother much. Haggling was never his forte – he always felt like he was being rude, especially when the entire concept came down to "It's not as good as you think it is." _

"_Likewise," the innkeeper said, smile never faltering. Alfred tugged on his brother's arm. "I'll see you tonight, then," he commented brightly._

_As soon as the door to the inn shut behind them, Alfred was abuzz with talk. "What was up with that guy? He kept staring at me! He gave me the creeps… Maybe he didn't notice you were there? It wouldn't be the first time!" Alfred burst into laughter, and Matthew gave a half-hearted attempt to join in. "Anyways, what do you want to do for the rest of the day? I saw a bakery nearby. We could look at the cakes!"_

_Matthew nibbled his lip. It was tempting, but… "We should look for Arthur. Who knows, maybe he arrived earlier than we thought he would? We could ask around, eh. He has a pretty distinct look, what with those green eyes and huge eyebrows…" Not to mention how attractive he was. When they went out together, Matthew occasionally saw ladies peeking at him from over their fans and giggling. And sometimes, just sometimes, Matthew saw Alfred looking up at their caretaker with something that was more than brotherly love. _

_As they began to walk to the marketplace to ask around, Matthew couldn't help but think of a night not too long ago that Francis had come to visit. As Alfred and Arthur played in the living room, Matthew was pulled aside. "You must promise to tell no one I said this," Francis said, his handsome face unusually serious. When Matthew had promised, Francis continued. "Matthieu, there are many people out there who will try to tell you that there are certain people you cannot love. Do you remember Bell?" Matthew had to think about this for a moment. Bell was one of the slaves who worked down in the kitchen._

"_What about her, papa?" He asked._

"_There are many, many people out there who would tell you that you couldn't love Bell. Do you know why that is?" Matthew had to think about this one as well. After a moment, he offered his best idea._

"_Because she's in her twenties and I'm not?" Francis shook his head._

"_Mon cher, it's because she's a Negro. According to some people, falling in love with a Negro is like falling in love with a dog – it's just not right. Matthieu, you must never, ever listen to any of those people." At this point, Francis had begun to tear up. "__Love is love__, no matter what. If you fall in love with a Negro, that's fine. If you fall in love with a native, that's fine too. Even if you fall in love with a man, love is love." _

_He had to pause to pull out a handkerchief to wipe his nose. Matthew's eyes were wide. He had never seen Francis in such a state before. "But you must be careful, you must be very careful. Some people get scared when they see someone brave loving who they want. And when people get scared, they do bad things. They could hurt you. They could hurt your partner. As you grow up, you'll learn. You'll know that some things are best left behind closed doors."_

Love is love, _though Matthew as he and Alfred entered the market. _I wonder if that applies to brothers too.

_-_- ϔ -_-_

Fire.

Matthew sat up, rubbing his head. He needed to get some matches… Groaning, he stumbled out of his bead, dropping to his knees and looking through the drawers on the nightstand. He kept matches in here, he was sure of it… Where had they gone? He needed to burn _that goddamn fucking picture…_

It wasn't until the bedroom door creaked open did Matthew realize what he was doing. Rising slowly to his feet, he saw Alfred standing in the doorway, an uncertain expression on his face. "I was looking for matches," Matthew explained, pointing at the open drawers… Why _had_ he been looking for matches?

"Right…" Alfred said, staring at his brother. "Uh, any particular reason why?"

"I… don't know." Matthew admitted. "I woke up and the first thing I thought about was that I needed to start a fire." That had sounded less crazy in his head. Matthew sighed, glancing out the window. After a moment, his brow furrowed. It wasn't morning. It was still high noon (as high as it got this far north). Matthew attempted to cast his memory back. He and Alfred had been searching the house for clues… he was in the bedroom… checking the closet… and then... then…

Matthew looked back at his brother, who was now looking more concerned than unsure. Stepping towards him, Alfred grasped his younger brother's shoulder, firmly enough to get his attention, but while still being gentle. "You okay, Mattie? You're spacing out…"

"O-oh, sorry, eh. Um… haha, this is the second time… um, what happened? I… can't remember."

"Well… I don't know either. I was downstairs. I heard you scream, and then I rushed up as fast I could. When I got here, you were just lying there on floor, KO'd…" Alfred shrugged. "The closet door was open. I guess you were looking in there. You know, for any clues." Matthew narrowed his eyes at his brother. After a moment, he realized that the American wasn't lying. He just wasn't telling the whole truth.

"Was there anything else there, eh? Any… _objects?" _Matthew asked through gritted teeth. Alfred sucked in a hurried gasp, shaking his head a little too quickly. Taking a deep breath, Matthew managed to calm down enough to talk more. "Listen, Al… I'm not mad, but I know you're lying to me. If you want this to work between us, you're just going to have to tell me the truth, eh."

Alfred blinked, before hanging his head. "Please don't be mad," he begged quietly, surprising the Canadian. This seemed completely out of character.

"Mad? I already told you I'm not angry, eh. I just want the truth. Just this one, little thing, Al… please tell me what was there."

"No, I mean… I know you're not mad _right now_, but please don't be angry when I show you." Now Matthew was rather curious. What was so bad about this object? The image of dubiously bright-colored dildos with tags entitled "Property of Alfred" entered his mind, but Matthew pushed them away, blushing. Honestly…

"I… can't promise anything if I don't know what the object is, but I'll try my best not to be angry…"

After a moment, Alfred nodded. Reaching inside a pocket on his bomber jacket, he handed Matthew a blank slip of paper. For a moment, Matthew stared at it, uncomprehending. What was he supposed to be angry about? Glancing up at Alfred, he saw the look of someone anticipating a bomb about to explode. Looking back down, he realized something – it wasn't just a slip of paper. Flipping it over, Matthew saw the truth.

It was a photograph, just printed out on regular paper. Alfred was there in the picture, laughing. His arm was wrapped around… someone. Matthew had no idea who the small, dark-haired man was. The man wasn't laughing, but his face bore a small, amused smile, like he thought Alfred silly and couldn't hold it back. In the background, a colorful city was splashed against a dark night sky. There were no stars.

_Tokyo, _Matthew thought, _now how do I know that? _

"Who's this?" Matthew asked, pointing to the Asian – presumably Japanese – man.

Alfred looked surprised. "O-oh, him? That's Kiku. He's a good friend of mine…" a dreamy smile flitted across his face, and, unthinking, he continued. "That was when we went to Tokyo together… You were there too, I think. In fact, I'm pretty sure you were the one who took this picture…"

Matthew looked back down at the photo. "Kiku?" Kiku… Kiku Honda…

It suddenly hit him like a ton of bricks. He _hated _this man. He hated every single ounce of Kiku Honda, hated how he never showed any emotion but Alfred still connected with him, hated how he thought how he was so much smarter than everyone because he could "read the mood", hated how he was such a closet pervert but Alfred still thought he was sexy. There was nothing likable at all about Kiku, least of all the fact that Alfred loved him.

"… ie! Mattie! Mattie, listen!"

Matthew gasped softly, continuing to cry. He hadn't even noticed the fat tears running down his face, nor had he noticed that he had fallen to the floor. Alfred was down there with him, holding him close. Matthew dropped the photo – which had been crumpled into a little ball – and wrapped his arms around his brother. "I hate him," he sobbed, "I hate him, and I don't know why." That wasn't completely true. Matthew knew exactly _why_ he hated Kiku. He just couldn't remember what happened to make it that way.

"Just let it all out..." Alfred cooed, pressing a kiss to the top of Matthew's head. "It's okay. You'll remember soon, I promise… everything will be okay. The hero will save you."

_-_- ϔ -_-_

America wasn't there.

The house looked like it was covered in powdered sugar, a gingerbread masterpiece. The windows were dark, and the place had the quiet eerie feeling of total emptiness. Nevertheless, Japan was determined to check. Perhaps America and his brother were just out shopping for groceries. Perhaps they had decided to go to bed early. Japan's instincts had been wrong before, surely. Surely…

Japan stepped up to the doorway, leaning over slightly to press the brass doorbell. From the inside, metal chimes sounded pleasantly. Japan waited.

And waited.

Something inside him said "Give up Japan, they aren't here." The Asian nation ignored the voice and knocked firmly. As with before, there was no answer. Japan took a deep breath, murmuring "_Sumimasen_, Canada-san," before reaching into his jacket pocket. He had a feeling that these particular tools might come in use.

Sliding the tension wrench into the door lock, Japan couldn't help but glance around once more. There was no one on the street at this time – his flight had been delayed two hours – but the threat of a 500,000 Yen fine wouldn't leave Japan's mind. Looking back at his task, Japan slid the second lock pick – the half diamond – into the hole. After few breathless moments of toggling, the lock clicked and the door creaked open an inch. Sliding the nickel-plated tools back into his pocket, Japan straightened back up and glanced at his watch. 20 seconds. Japan grimaced, pushing the door fully open. He really needed to practice. 20 seconds was far too long to be crouching there like a retarded sitting duck.

The living room was dark, uninhabited. There was even a bit of dust collecting on the tabletops, though how it got there was beyond Japan. Shutting the door from the cold outside, the Asian nation flicked on the light. Though dusty, the room was otherwise tidy. Too tidy. If America had been here, it must've not been for long. The young nation had a habit of messing up any house he stayed in. Japan remembered a rather poignant moment in their relationship when he saw his boyfriend off at the airport, then returned to his home to find all of his wall scrolls hanging upside-down. To this day, Japan wasn't entirely sure how – or why – it happened.

"America-kun?" Japan called out tentatively, "Canada-san?" Nothing but the falling snow.

The next few minutes passed in a blur as Japan walked around the house, the eerie silence echoing in his head. Everything seemed too… perfect. As if no one had ever lived here. The entire place smelled of air freshener, the furniture was positioned perfectly, the books stacked in a way that would make even Germany proud. However, it wasn't until Japan entered the master bedroom that his unease ramped up into anxiety.

A box rested in the middle of the bed. There was nothing particularly intimidating or unusual about the box – it was white cardboard, about the size of a large printer. However, Japan couldn't take his eyes off it. Slowly entering the room, Japan shut the door behind him, tempted to lock it out of paranoia. The small man took a deep, shaky breath. There was nothing to be afraid of. It was just a box…

His steps were slow and measured. _No reason to rush, _he thought, as an attempt to make his fear more logical. Too soon, he was at the edge of the bed. Japan noticed the box had been taped at the seams, and for the first time, he realized that the box was full to bursting. The lid barely fit, teetering precariously on the top of the box.

Japan's had ghosted over the rough material, biting his lip. Even if it _was_ something to worry about, Japan had surely dealt with worse. Still… closing his eyes, Japan ripped the top of the box off.

Nothing but the falling snow.

Opening his eyes, Japan peered in. Photographs. Hundreds of them, perhaps even thousands. Japan released a breath that he hadn't realized he was holding. Just photographs. Still, it seemed an odd place to put them. Japan picked one of them up, running his finger along the edge. In it, America was sitting at a park bench, eating ice cream. He looked so ridiculously adorable that Japan was tempted to pocket it for himself. America never wanted Japan to take cute pictures of him. Every time Japan asked his boyfriend to smile for the camera, America did so, but also struck some ridiculous "heroic" pose. Japan was quite frankly surprised that he wasn't doing so in this picture as well. In fact, America wasn't even looking at the camera…

Japan's eyes widened, and he dropped the photo. All of the pictures were of America, none of them where he was looking at the camera. One in particular caught his eye. America was walking down the street, glancing at his watch. On the edges of the photo, there were signs of wood brush. As if the photographer was crouching behind a bush…

The Asian nation stumbled backwards, sitting heavily in a chair. His blood was pounding in his ears. Why did Canada own such pictures? Did he take them himself? Did he pay someone else to get them? Weren't he and America… brothers?

What had Canada done with him?

_-_- ϔ -_-_

**I'm sorry if the monetary system is waaay off. I know in colonial America, they used their own special little pounds, I don't know how that would compare to today's money. I just know that, for example, the dollar today buys a lot less than a dollar from the 20's. Just saying. The Buckingham House is what they called Buckingham Palace way back when. Cash registers weren't invented around this time, so I had the "money drawer" so the innkeeper would have somewhere safe to put his cash. I mean, if he just left it out in the open, that'd be just asking for it. If France seems rather liberal for that time, that's just me. It's my headcanon that France had always believed that someone should embrace their love, even if others find it wrong.**

**The tension wrench and half-diamond pick are kinds of lockpicks. I personally have no idea how to lockpick, and I had to look it all up. Sorry for any inaccuracies. There's a law in Japan that anyone owning lockpicks has to either pay 500,000 Yen or go to jail for one year (that is, anyone owning lockpicks who's not certified to do so, like a locksmith).**

**Thank you to everyone who's reviewed! Please don't be shy, since reviews are how I measure my worth as a human being :3**


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